


Playing Favorites

by Emono



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, Light Choking, M/M, National Hockey League, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: Joe is Ron's boyfriend, captain's pet, and it shows when Web checks Joe during a game. Ron shows everyone that no one makes his boy bleed but him, then later he reminds Joe who he belongs to. Just smut and hockey.





	

**For msridcully, who had a bad week. And for Casey, who I KNOW said Speirgott wouldn't work. WELL HERE WE GO**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Anything could happen on the ice. That was part of the reason Joe loved hockey so much. He was living his dream by playing professionally and he didn’t insult the opportunity by putting on his skates with anything less than his very best. Getting drafted to the Red Wings was an honor and a privilege.

 

The whole thing was a thrill. The heat of the lights striking against the chill of the ice. The sound of their skates, the fans, the solid smack of of their sticks hitting the puck. It was what wet dreams were made of. And he was fucking good at it too. Under their captain, Ron Speirs, Joe was quickly becoming a great left defenseman. He was really growing into the position and bulking up the way he needed to.

 

Ron spotted him at the gym, supported him on the ice, and fucked him back at the hotels. Simple, easy, uncomplicated. He didn’t want to use words like ‘love’ when their entire lives balanced on the head of a pin around draft season, but Ron surely belonged to him.

 

They were playing the Sharks and Joe should’ve known something like this was coming. He’d never gotten along with one of their right wing’s, David Webster. They’d been butting heads since the first day the met all the way back in their college hockey days. They’d gotten signed roughly the same time and had gone through camps together, drafts, and every time they were in each other’s line of sight they couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Web took cheap shots at Joe’s middle class upbringing, his lack of privatized education, his lankiness, his nose, _anything_ to get him going. Joe always returned the banter ten fold and despite his size he was a damn good enforcer. Smacking Web around was one of his many joys in life.

 

Except this time he hadn’t started anything so he didn’t think there’d be anything.

 

Joe got checked mid-stride and he would’ve landed on his ass if the safety glass hadn’t caught him. It was clearly uncalled for with the puck clear across the ice. He got his footing on the ice and looked to see who had a vendetta to find Web’s smug, too-pretty face smirking at him. The bastard was skating away in the ref’s blind spot like he didn’t have a care in the world. He even _turned his back._

 

Joe went after him with a single-minded determination to knock around the Harvard brat. His tunnel vision made him underestimate how ready Web was and his momentum made it easy for the man to throw an elbow into his face. He didn’t hear or feel a crack but it hurt like a son of a bitch. Joe’s head whipped back and he dropped his stick at the shock of pain. Blood flooded his mouth and he choked on it.

 

Joe ripped out his mouthpiece and spat a thick glob of red onto the ice. His mouth felt raw like it had been scrubbed over with copper. “Motherfucker!”

 

Web got put into the penalty box for it and Speirs skated up to Joe’s side long enough to tell him to drop it before returning to the game. Joe grit his teeth, washed out his mouth, and went back to playing with the single goal of destroying the Sharks completely so he had something real to brag about. Web’s penalty was two minutes and Joe forced himself to stay focused when it ended. He didn’t look over, didn’t engage. He listened to his captain’s orders and did his job.

 

Except for the moment Web was out on the ice again, Speirs made an uncharacteristic beeline toward him. He checked the kid so hard he bounced off the wall, lost his helmet and stick, and landed flat on his face. It was a painful spill. It took a while to get up even with two of his teammates to help him up.

 

Joe laughed so hard he needed to hold onto Chuck to keep upright.

 

o0o

 

They traveled so much that every hotel room started to look the same. The same lamps, the white bathrooms, the awkward desk, ugly bedspreads. Joe had seen it all in his two years of professional hockey. It was background noise compared to who he got to board with.

 

The room echoed with the harsh, crude smacks of flesh on flesh as they fucked. They’d done this so many times but it never got old. Joe was low on his knees and elbows, sweat slicking his back and damp curls sticking to his forehead. Ron was holding onto his hips like a vice and practically bouncing him on his lap. Every move drew low little ‘ _uh-uh-uh_ ’s out from deep in his chest. Ron had such a perfect cock for fucking. Thick and hot, curved just right like he’d been personally molded to hit his prostate. They had stopped using protection a long time ago. They didn’t fuck anyone but each other no matter how many groupies they made out with. They got the occasional blowjob from hot hockey fans when the opportunity presented itself.

 

But Joe knew for certain Ron only fucked _him_. He’s the only one who got his cock.

 

Ron was just as possessive. He was dominant, rough yet gentle where it mattered, a real Alpha male type. Joe thought himself in the same vein. Ron was the only man he’d ever bent over for, the only one he’d ever wanted to. He was the only man who’d earned it. And he knew how to wind his captain up.

 

Ron had left their room to corral their teammates out of their drunken celebration and put them in bed like a good captain and Team Dad. When he’d gotten back from his rounds, Joe had been lounging in their shared bed in nothing but his Speirs jersey.

 

Ron snarled and drank in the sight of his own name branded across Joe’s shoulders. The jersey was rucked up to show off the sweaty curve of his lower back. His pretty defenseman was flushed with need and he’d have him no other way. He looked fucking good stretched out in front of him like an offering with his red, puffy rim stretched wide around his cock. Everything was so slick and hot. Joe took him so well. They’d always fit together well, on and off the ice. His ass was snug like he’d been made for him. Joe made these low, rough noises but with the right move he could drag out sinful mewls.

 

“Can’t believe you checked Web,” Joe snickered, teeth catching hard on his lip as the man’s cock hit his prostate dead on. Goosebumps broke out over his thighs and they trembled. “ _Shit_. Not very professional, Captain.”

  
Ron grabbed him by the front of the throat and dragged him up into he was all but in his lap. Joe cried out as he was bounced roughly with each thrust, a capable arm curling around his middle to keep him in place. He clawed at Ron’s arm and hip as he tried not to whine like a bitch. The new angle was sending pure heat through his cock. “No one gets to make you bleed but _me_.”

 

“Fuck, Captain,” Joe husked.

 

“That’s right,” Ron grit out, each snap of his hips leaving a stinging smack on his boy’s fleshy ass. “You’re _mine_.”

 

“Yours,” Joe swore earnestly.  

 

“Captain’s little slut,” Ron murmured in his ear, letting go of Joe’s throat to sweep back his hair and get a good look at his face.

 

“Fuck yes,” Joe moaned, every filthy grind of their hips wringing new pleasure out of his body. The man knew how to fuck. All his power laid in his hips and Joe was glad to give himself over completely. “Only yours, Ron. Fuck, _fuck_ , you know I am.”

 

“Always so fucking good for me.” Ron bit at his throat and he shuddered against him. The way his teeth sunk into his skin like it was his right felt like an electric shock. “I don’t want Web putting his fucking hands on you.”

 

Joe huffed out a laugh through grit teeth. “Jealous, Cap?”

 

“I have it on damn good authority that he wants you.”

 

That made Joe’s eyes pop open, a frown tugging at his mouth. Web? That know it all college boy with the big mouth? Bullshit. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”

 

Joe hissed when Ron pulled out and he fumbled for purchase as he was easily flipped onto his back. Ron’s causal strength turned him on but it was that _look_ that made him so hard he dripped. The man’s eyes were nearly black and they shined with dominant intent, with _envy_. His lips were pulled back in a snarl and it made Joe want to show throat for more marks.

 

“You interested, Liebgott?”

 

“In that priss? Fuck no.” Joe let his legs fall open and he slid a hand under the jersey. He wanted to preen at the way Ron’s eyes greedily followed every movement. He dragged it up to expose the hard earned ridges of his abs and the solid plane of his chest. He worked hard for his body and Ron had tasted every inch of it but was still somehow hungry for him. “Not when I got an animal like you to keep me happy, Cap. So unless you want to talk about your boyfriend Webster a little more, maybe we can get back to fucking?”

 

Ron fell on him with a wild noise that made his blood boil. Ron’s hand closed over his throat with much more intent this time and it made his cock twitch against his belly. Joe was pinned beneath the man and there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He let the man hike his leg up over his broad shoulder and slip inside with one smooth thrust.

 

Joe eyes rolled back at the sudden fullness and he let out a shaky grasp. “Fuck me.”

 

“Mine,” Ron snarled into his throat, panting wetly against the sensitive skin.

 

“Fuckin’ shit, Ron,” Joe whimpered, pushing into the man’s palm and clawing at the sheets. “Who’s fuckin’ name am I wearing, huh? Who’s bed am I in? You know it’s just you.”

 

“It better be,” Ron grunted.

 

“You jealous prick,” Joe cursed breathlessly. But he was smiling, he loved being full like this with the man he trusted most in the world covering him. _Wouldn’t want him any other way._

 

“Say it again,” Ron husked against his jaw.

 

“I’m yours, Captain.”

 

And he meant it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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